The Monster Within
by Cloud Awning
Summary: Vincent Valentine has Geostigma but is hiding it. Cid Highwind drinks himself into a stupor. Follow their story as both of them discover 'The Monster Within'. What does it take to truly drive the shadows away? Set shortly after Final Fantasy VII, Rated M for strong language and adult themes. Warning of Yaoi and ValenWind! Adventure/Romance with some humor AU
1. Chapter 1 - The Children Shall Lead

**Title: The Monster Within  
Rated: M (language and dark adult themes)  
Disclaimer: Do you really need me to say I own nothing? All right, everything is Sqaure Enixes, I'm just here to ruin everybody's perceptions of how straight certain characters are. ;D  
Genre: Adventure/Romance  
Pairing: ValenWind****Also special thanks to 'leaf the invisible' for many awesome PM chats about ValenWind and other technicals about Geostigma, it really helped. Thanks! :p**

**I'm such a bad fangirl for these two. They just...-sigh-**  
**I have all the feels, okay? ;D**  
**This fic takes places shortly after the events of Final Fantasy VII, so Advent Children's story should occur right after this one ends.**  
**I'm re-writing as fast as I can so I can get these chapters up. If you have any nitpicks you spied in this first chapter, alert me to them all right? I'm here to get actual judgement on my writing.**  
**Hope you enjoy it!**

**PS: "The Children Shall Lead" is a reference to an old Star Trek episode**

"..._Someday_,_ I will be strong enough to lift not one, but both of us."_

-  
Chapter 1  
The Children Shall Lead

When Vincent Valentine found the child, she was crying and clutching a moogle toy to her small chest. Her coughs were rough and almost withered sounding, like the afflictions of an old woman had somehow found its way into her throat. She stared at Vincent with large mako-laced eyes and her arms reached out for him, her little arms going neatly around his neck as he picked her up. Her hot forehead rested on his shoulder, her warm breath in his ear as she said, "Mister, where's my mommy?"

He stared through the rain at the dank alley-way with its cobblestones and shadows, and he spotted a body; cold, unmoving, obviously not breathing. A woman with a black smudge like weird mold silently coursing from her closed eye to her white, exposed throat. A young woman... Was this her child? He couldn't let the girl see.

He sheltered her with his cloak, walking swiftly over the slippery stones as the rain tried to wash away the damp smell of disease. In his arms the child cried into her wet moogle toy and whispered for her mama in increasingly silent tears. Eventually the motion of Vincent's walking soothed her and she fell into a fevered sleep in his arms, her trusting limbs around his neck now limp.

There was obviously a story, here. The child might have been a SOLDIER brat, raised directly within sight of the Shinra building. Maybe that young woman had been the wife of some unlucky man before Meteorfall. After his death, perhaps she was homeless, had succumbed to the Geostigma, had tried desperately to take her child to some shelter before she died, but hadn't succeeded. For the angel over the church in the upper Midgar was not far from the alley. One could see it if they looked up, and it wasn't hard to spot, being made of white marble.

When he walked through the doors of the building he was assaulted by the utter hopelessness inside. For every ten Geostigma victims, there were maybe two nurses available for care. Where were all the doctors?  
Vincent finally managed to find a harried looking woman who saw the child in his arms and said sharply, "Geostigma?"  
He nodded and the child was abruptly taken from him, making her lose the moogle toy, causing her to cry out in her sleep.

Vincent didn't know what made him do it - perhaps it was pity - perhaps it was because of his sorrow that an innocent child would be in such a situation - he picked up the moogle toy and followed the woman until she had plopped the child down into a dirty-looking cot. The girl moaned and her eyelids flickered and shot open. He was struck by her eyes, bright and blue, and struck again by her pale face and the smudge of black disease which had grown intrusively on her right cheek.

"Mister, where's my mommy?" she asked again, and every syllable wrenched his soul like nothing ever had.  
He handed her the moogle and the child began to cry again, reaching out for the only other human who had shown her kindness - for Vincent. He stayed there as she clutched her toy and his arm. He stayed there until she fell asleep again, her fingers curled around the cloth of his cloak.  
"She's returned to the planet," he whispered, slowly disengaging his arm from her innocent clutch.

It was weeks after that when he himself began experiencing strange symptoms of the disease, but he wouldn't allow himself to believe that it could be Geostigma. Maybe he was tired, maybe his body was finally degenerating...maybe the planet itself had decided that he was a threat.

He remembered the white shocks of hot and cold which coursed through him, crippling his ability to think; he remembered stumbling through the street, feeling half-mad with a fever, knowing deep in his mind that he should take shelter somewhere, sleep in a safe place. That was when Marlene found him. Her sweet face impressed on his memory like a sunbeam, and he thought once or twice that she was that doomed child he had tried to save.

She took his arm and led him to Tifa's bar in the upper streets of Midgar, stopping patiently for him when he stumbled, and talking to him to keep him from going unconscious.  
"I can't carry you if you fall!" she scolded him. "You're too tall."  
Vincent saw everything through a red blur, an indication of an oncoming transformation; oh how desperately he didn't want that to happen! Not around Marlene. Not while this magnificent girl was trying so hard to help him. So he heeded her and listened hard to her voice, picking apart her words as they came to his ear.

She told him funny stories about Cloud, and how Nanaki had a habit of sleeping in the doorway so that Cloud sometimes accidentally stepped on his tail. Poor Nanaki. She told him about how Tifa taught her to string flowers together in a wreath, and how pretty that was hanging on doorways and on walls in the hallway. She told him about the 'Strife delivery service' and all the weird things people had them deliver.

Each word was like a small orb of light as it passed through him. The words were solace, almost a healing medicine for him as she spoke. Because they gave him the feeling of home, of family. Things he had not felt for decades. Her arm was tight around his, and he thought vaguely, _the little children shall lead._Where had he heard that before? Somewhere in a book, perhaps...

By the time they got to the bar, Vincent was stumbling so horribly that Marlene could barely get him to move, and he heard the door open like a gunshot, heard Tifa's voice as if through a long dark tunnel scolding Marlene for running off, heard her surprised gasp as she saw his state. The rest of that week was a blur of voices and suppressed, fevered dreams where the vivid, sweet scent of flowers enveloped him, fingers prodded him, worried voices washed over him.

He awoke once or twice to caring hands encouraging him to drink. The TV blared newscasts almost daily and he listened without caring to the voices, not daring to understand until he heard a word that shocked his senses. He clambered to consciousness like a drowning man, trying to hear more, needing to get away from the red blaze that threatened his mind. He didn't want to transform...he musn't. He fought it with every inch of his being until finally it seemed he heard glass shattering. Was that his mind, or an actual glass? Something broke. Maybe it was himself and he was dead after all.

To his surprise he found himself laying on a cot in a corner, and the newscast he heard was coming from somewhere over his head. He listened to the harsh noise of it, digging his hands into the covers somebody had placed over him sometime during the week, feeling as if he might teeter off the edge again. But he didn't. Reality was here to stay. His eyes shot open, staring at the brown rafters in in the ceiling.

..."Scientists say Geostigma is a defense mechanism of the planet itself, designed to target only those with Jenova cells," the female news reporter was quipping, "But a renowned former Shinra scientist believes something quite different."

A few seconds of silence as news footage switched, and Vincent strained to hear:  
_"My studies seem to show Geostigma is an adaptable virus, capable of forming defenses according to its surroundings. It's not an intelligent life, but it does seem to have some mechanism for minimal environmental changes."_  
..."Dr. Omagi also says she is working on a cure..."

Vincent stopped listening and turned his head to the side, letting it wash over him again. What was that about environmental changes? So the Geostigma is adaptable. _I could have it_, he thought. _So the planet has decided that I am a threat after all. It's trying to...get rid of me. Have I nothing else to offer life?_

He wanted to scream.

Life coalesced once again into another weird blur as Vincent struggled with his mind. Sleeping, never eating, always being forced to drink a glass of water. Why wouldn't they leave him alone to die?

What seemed like an eternity later, he opened his eyes to see a vase of flowers, yellow and sweet in their simplicity. He looked at them awhile and wondered where they had come from when Marlene entered the room. She was sensible and so straight-backed as she sat near Vincent's bed in a wooden chair. Too mature for a girl her age, so oddly grown-up.  
"...Don't go anywhere," she said.

Vincent looked at her, closed his eyes, smelled the flowers.  
..."Why?" he asked softly. Did she know all he wanted to do...was fade away?  
"Because," she said, and he looked at her again as she fiddled with the flowers in the vase, arranging them, "If you leave, you won't be able to give me a flower back. You owe me a flower, Mr. Valentine. So you can't go anywhere."

-

Cid was having a bad day. He was determined to hate everything this afternoon.  
He muttered darkly, pouring another shot of whiskey into a glass. He looked around for something to distract himself, eyeing a paperback laying face-down on the counter.  
"Looks like one of those romance deals. Good enough."  
He sipped the shot and decided a bit of light reading wouldn't be so bad, if only to get certain things off his mind.

He was reeling from a fight with Shera. Though the two of them had been off and on ever since the thing with Sephiroth had finished, Cid had found himself becoming distant from her more and more lately. Perhaps it was the place, or maybe he just didn't like seeing that empty spot in the sky where his rocket used to lean. They'd had their worst bout of fighting the week before, when Cid came home plastered and Shera finally cornered him about it.

Well...Shera didn't exactly corner him. Technically she was too much of a mouse for that, and he supposed that's what aggravated him. She never fought back, and he hated that about her; sometimes he just wanted to run off and leave her before he did something dangerous. He hated that about himself, too.  
_Honey_, he thought, skimming over the words on the page, _Cid Highwind ain't the nicest guy on the planet..._

He was doing pretty well with the whiskey until Tifa showed up, eyed the half-empty bottle, and demanded it back so she could lock it up.  
"What, that's my own whiskey sweet cheeks! Screw you."  
"Cid, you should talk to him."  
She eased the bottle away from him and plopped it in a cabinet, snapping the door shut before he could protest.  
"You're changin' the damn subject, I wasn't finished with that..."

Tifa grinned, leaning over the table.  
"I know you like him."  
Oh. She was on that thread again.

The pilot hunched his shoulders and pretended he didn't hear her. He didn't want to talk. In fact, he didn't want to be doing anything at all.  
Cid pretended to read, but he was now so drunk that the lines blurred in front of his face. Random words leaped from the page to assault his brain. Words like Kiss, Touch, Feel.  
"Who do I like? Goddammit Tifa, I'm at the good part."  
"Stop swearing, and you know who I mean."

"_The moon was large and full above the lover's heads as they made passionate love to the sound of the tree frogs_," Cid read aloud, focusing hard on the letters. Tifa rolled her eyes.  
"…._Slowly, in perfect unison, they came together amidst the leaves_…damn, whose book is this, anyway? Is this Cloud's book? I bet it is. Who the hell in this place has a tree frog fetish?"  
Tifa took the novel gently away, snapping it shut.  
"Will you just talk to Vincent?"

Cid put his face in his hands, running his fingers through his blond hair.  
"Why, so you can play matchmaker for me? No way, sister."  
The brunette girl moved around the counter to sit beside him. Chewing her bottom lip, contemplating.  
"You're unhappy, aren't you?"  
"You're darn right. I'm also with Shera."  
"You told me a week ago that you guys were seperating."  
"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we'll spend the rest of our lives in wedded bliss. Who the fuck knows?"  
"..All I'm saying is, if you like Vincent, you should do something about it. That's all."

That was a simple logical conclusion which felt like ice as it fell through his brain, coming to rest somewhere in his stomach. It made him feel uneasy to hear it spoken casually aloud, as if Tifa was actually saying, "The weather is nice today."

Cid felt his face becoming unusually heated, and he looked off to the side. Of all the people, Tifa, just like your average female, had been the one to pick up on the signs.  
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.  
"What do you take me for, anyway, one o' them dandies? Well I'm not."  
Tifa shrugged. "So you're not a stereotype. Isn't that a good thing?"  
"I guess so."

Cid just never thought something this silly would ever crop up. While he had to admit that he was as easily distracted by a big pair of titties as the next man, (Tifa's distracted him on a regular basis) there was just something special about Vincent.

It had been incredibly hard for Cid these past few weeks. Between the fight with Shera and Vincent's illness, plus scouting out survivors in Midgar wreckage, it'd been tough. Cid had spent most of it ambling around Tifa's bar, helping take care of a very fevered Vincent - and that was a challenge in itself, considering. Vincent had been pretty damn sick, and Cid found it hard to leave his side. Apparently during that time he had let something vital slip, and Tifa, having a sharp eye, had picked up on it.

Cid scratched his head again, knowing he couldn't hide from his feelings forever behind a bottle or a book.  
"Damn...you know, I ain't good at those heart-to-heart things."  
Tifa nodded. "I understand. But Cid...I also thought, he could use a friend right now..."  
"Yeah...he seemed real down. Well, I mean, downer than usual."

Earlier that week Vincent's illness had seemed to suddenly drop off. Ever since then he had been with Tifa and Cid on the Highwind, helping every day to scout out survivors and carry Geostigma patients to clinics and other facilities. But he was cold, silent, and generally stayed away from them. At the same time, he and Cid's friendship had seemed to change, and that made the pilot worried. No longer did they have that sort of cameraderie that they had enjoyed in each other only a year ago. Vincent seemed tense, almost strung-out.

Cid supposed it could have been a side affect of his previous illness, but this stuff seemed mental as well, and he just couldn't shake the feeling off that Vincent might be struggling mightily with some inner morale.

"I mean," Cid continued, "It was weird...you remember when you had me, Barret, and Cloud dispatch to go get survivors?"  
Tifa nodded. "Yeah."  
"We had to fight some old Shinra mechs. Tiny things, we killed 'em in a heartbeat. Well there was this one that shot missiles, and it shot one of those straight at Vincent. Nearly brought the guy down. I thought he was a goner. Well Tifa...he..changed."  
"He what?"  
"Changed, y'know..." Cid scratched his head again, trying to find the words to describe it.

First of all, Cid had watched Vincent change before, and it was nothing like this time had been. Vincent had bent over, shaking, and Cid had thought at first that he was going to hurl or something. His skin flashed purple, changing textures. He was obviously struggling, and Cid was at a loss. All those other battles he had transformed, and Vincent had seemed nothing but strong.

"But that wasn't the weirdest part. The worst bit was that once he did go, _it's like he didn't wanna come back_. You know what I mean?"

Cid half-expected it to turn on them, for Vincent did eventually transform - it made him cringe, the pain he was witnessing. This was awful. This was unnatural.  
One by one, they tried to get him to change back with no success. Finally Cid approached it (_Him_, Cid reminded himself), and steadied his reserve.  
"…..Vince, man, don't do this," Cid tried, scratching his head nervously.

At first glance, he looked like something you would want to kill with a stick. Cid fought that instinct, and looked up, right into the monster's eyes.  
Cid was startled and unnerved. The monster held no physical qualities of Vincent's. Except his eyes. They were red, they were full of soul and a lifetime of pain.

_Dear God_, Cid thought, _Shinra did this man wrong. Real wrong. Is this all they've left behind? Their goddamn scientific legacy?_

Then, before he could say anything else, the monster thing shuddered. Its skin bubbled and tightened, turning pale. Vincent, back in his human form, held Cid's gaze for one more split second before he collapsed on the ground, sweaty-faced and weak.

Cid, remembering all this, shrugged and leaned over the counter, head in his hands, feeling the effects of the alcahol.  
"A'right, if it'll make you happy, I'll talk to him. On one condition."  
Tifa stopped celebrating long enough to say, "What?"  
"If I talk to Vincent, you gotta talk to Cloud. And gimme that book."


	2. Chapter 2 - Not Like Life

**Okay, short filler chapter here. But I wanted to explore the nature of Cid and Vincent's relationship a bit. Hey this is what fanfiction is for! Hope you enjoy it.  
Sorry it's short, it was hell to write and not nearly as good as the first chapter.  
Don't worry it gets action-packed very soon.**

**And yes it is cheesy. That's the point.**  
**What's love without a little cheese?**

* * *

Chapter 2  
Not Like Life

* * *

Cold and hot, feverish and insane. He'd been all of those things, one after the other like a pile of dominoes cascading over each other on their way to an awful ending. Now he was nothing but numb.

Vincent stared at his reflection in the mirror, observing without emotion the smudge of stigma growing across his chest. He turned, following its painful progress with his eyes. It began somewhere around his torso and grew somewhat in an upward way, becoming a large gash on his upper chest. He saw a thin trickle of it trying to grow on his neck circling around near his spine.

He felt it like tiny bugs crawling over his skin. He thought, _it knows where my mind is._

This fact alone should have made him despair, but he merely slipped his shirt on, and donned his cloak. He knew the worst was yet to come.

_But...I still have time. And nobody must ever know. I can die quietly._

For one white moment, he stopped at the door, having to use the wall to steady himself; a tiny pin-prick of anger rushed through him at this weakness. He simply stood there with his forehead against the cool metal, listening to the faraway voices of Tifa and Cid, having a trivial conversation about something.

_...Cid._

A small smile grew on his lips, erasing a bit of his worry. Perhaps Cid would never comprehend what he had done for Vincent, and that was all right. He knew the pilot was worried, and just that fact alone was some comfort for him.

In a way, he was so obvious - that's what made Vincent secretly smile. Cid's loyalty transcended sanity, sometimes, and yet it was so sensible and no-nonsense that Vincent was inclined to admire it from a distance. He was quite simply a good friend, and a good man.

He could only wish that he himself was that strong.

* * *

Cid tried to get Vincent alone long enough for some words to pass, but it was futile. He found himself more often than not very tongue-tied and nervous, so that just a normal sentence would sound something like, "Vincent? Uhhh. Damn. Never mind." – with varying exotic swear words thrown in for good measure.  
If Vincent found any of this odd, he never showed it.

Every time Cid got near Vincent again, a small hard fist clutched his stomach. Butterflies flew in his throat.  
_Dammit, stop acting like you have a case of the schoolgirl shits_, Cid thought. _Talk to the man. Get it over with._

But some tiny, inner voice told him that this was something you didn't just get done with and move on. This was life-changing. It had to be done with subtlety. Unfortunately, subtlety was something Cid Highwind didn't have a whole lot of.

Once he sat down and wondered exactly what it was about Vincent that inspired all these weird feelings. Was he attractive?  
Cid pondered. Yeah, Vincent was pretty, like a woman. But that wasn't all of it. There was something about him, a certain quality Cid found absolutely irresistable; he just couldn't put his finger on it.

What was this 'talk' supposed to epitomize, anyway? Exactly what was Cid expecting to happen? For Vincent to fall head over heels for him, to profess his love like the woman in that book? No way. That wasn't Vincent's style. Come to think of it, that wasn't Cid's style, either.

For the first time in his life, he thought hard about what he wanted from another person, not just sex, but the emotions. What sort of emotion did he want from Vincent? Just pondering it made him ache with something tangible, like a thumb was softly pressing a bruise somewhere inside his chest.  
_I want... dammit...I dunno what I want. _

"It's no use," he told Tifa, collapsing onto a chair. It was one of those warm evening nights. The Highwind was floating along at a small height, riding the night breeze above a twinkling city.  
"Maybe it's just a crush. Maybe I'll get over it."

"But do you really want to take that chance?"  
She was sitting on the floor, arms crossed around her knees. Cid hoped she was out of her "good" ideas. And then he remembered that he had none of his own. Tifa looked up at him.

"…Do you remember the play, 'Loveless?'" Tifa asked. "Do you know why it was so popular in Midgar?"  
Cid shook his head silently.  
"It's because there was nothing beautiful in that place. Trees. Flowers. There were none of those things. So people became obsessed with this play about love because it resonated with them in a way nothing else ever did."  
"Tifa, what are you trying to say, here?"

The brunette sighed, hugging her knees to her chest.  
"I'm trying to say….that the world is ugly. But maybe love helps the warts."  
"You're telling me I have warts?"  
"Shush. I'm onto something, here. And the answer is yes, you do. We all do."  
"Dammit, do I even have to tell you that makes zero sense?"  
"No, because think about it - love brings out the best in us."

Cid stared at the book in his hands, feeling unusually sober. What if the only real concept of so-called "true love" existed in fairytales? What, then? And what if Vincent didn't return the pilot's feelings... ?  
No. Best not think about that. It made the bruise in his chest ache.

"Goddammit, this isn't real."  
"The book isn't real, you're right about that. ...but what about the feelings it was based on? That had to come from somewhere. Art mimics life."  
"...Sure. Maybe I should give Vincent a treefrog for his birthday," Cid snorted. But his laugh was short-lived, and he soon gave up trying to think. He merely leaned back and looked at the blackness of night outside the large circular window in front of them.  
Tifa stood up to leave the bridge.  
"You're hopeless."

Cid couldn't think of a retort as she walked away, so he just sat there, watching the twinkling lights of the city go slowly by like little yellow stars. He rubbed his eyes tiredly.  
Perhaps stories had some merit, after all...he could be okay with believing that...maybe.  
_...Woah, partner. Stop this horse before you gallop on into bullshit territory._

Suddenly he felt a presence at his forearm. He twitched, swearing.  
"...I thought we talked about this 'sneaking up on me' business."  
Cid looked up only to see a very solemn-looking Vincent, and suddenly regretted his touchiness. He rubbed his head, grinning slightly.

Vincent said, "Sorry, Chief."  
"Neh. I'm a sorrier man than you."  
Then again, Cid was almost sure he saw a hint of amusement in Vincent's dark red eyes. It was a strange thing to see. Cid could've sworn that the other man was messing with him on purpose, but it was hard to tell. A trick of the light, maybe.

"How long have you been here, anyhow?" Cid said suspiciously. He felt a slight hint of mortification at the thought of Vincent having been here in the shadows the entire time he was talking with Tifa.  
Vincent shook his head. "Not long."  
"Oh. Good. Uh, listen…" Cid cleared his throat. "Wanna go up?" he gestured to the stairs leading up out of the Highwind.  
"Yes. I was headed that way."

-  
Vincent struck a graceful figure on the balcony of the Highwind. It seemed to Cid that he must have been made to stand in the wind, with his raven hair blowing back out of his face, his cape billowing. For once, he had his face-mask pulled down.

Cid leaned against the railing and lit one of his ever-present cigarettes. This was nice. They were just two dudes, enjoying each other's company in silence. Cid took a glance at Vincent's profile. Yeah, just two regular dudes. One of whom was particularly beautiful. And elegant. Way out of anybody's league.

Cid knew right at that moment that he would never be content to remain just friends with Vincent Valentine. But he felt calmer about it than he had in ages. In the past, his attempts to speak with the other man had been forced and fake. Right now he felt more natural.

He loved this moment for what it was. He finally felt as he used to with Vincent. Steady and natural.  
The wind blew soft warmth on their faces. Cid took a drag on his cigarette. Finally, he broke the calm silence.  
"Vince, can I ask you a weird question?"

Cid glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Vincent nodded. The pilot urged himself on, saying, "Just between us guys...did you ever love anyone?"  
The other man twitched slightly but his face never changed.  
"….Lucrecia."

Cid tapped his cigarette on the railing, letting the ashes fall. Of course, Lucrecia. Who else? It was one of the first things Vincent had ever told them, basically.  
Of course he never said before now that he was in love with her. But it had been implied.  
The pilot took a deep breath and went on.  
"Do you think you could ever love anyone like that again?"

There was a soft pause.

Then Vincent said, "Never in a thousand lifetimes."


	3. Chapter 3 - Cloudy Skies

**Yet another cliffhanger. Ooh don't kill me, I know where everything is going so I know I won't be leaving any of you in the dark, so to speak.  
Hope you enjoy it, this was my first time really writing an action sequence. I also had fun with the Cid-related one-liners in this chapter. He definitely is the funniest character I've ever had the pleasure to write. **

* * *

-  
Chapter 3  
Cloudy Skies

Vincent tried to understand what just happened. He sat down, his back to the railing, staring up at the swollen yellow moon. Cid had left in such a hurry. Why? It wasn't like the pilot to go on talking about love like that.

"Cid," he muttered, "What's wrong?"

_Lucrecia...does it bother him that I loved her?_  
Then a quick breeze blew, pushing something flat and papery against the railing. Vincent quickly caught it and examined it. A book.  
He sat there with the paperback in his slim hand, struggling to understand.

Then his heart quickened as realization dawned, and all the pilot's actions from weeks ago up to now suddenly made sense.

-

* * *

The Pilot gritted his teeth as he fumbled for the PHS in his pocket, swearing, "Goddammit motherfucker, you better have a good reason for calling me so early in the..."  
There was a pause as he leaned forward, putting his aching forehead to the cool, rain-splattered window by his cot. He flipped the ringing PHS open, putting it to his ear.  
"Jeezus Christ, Shera, do you know how early it is?"  
"_I know Cid, but I just had to talk to you._"  
"Why now?"  
He heard the rustle of movement. Shera must have put her palm over the mouthpiece. Muffled voices, then another burst of static.  
"_Vincent...is he all right?_"

Just like Shera...always worried about somebody. Cid grimaced through his headache.  
"Yeah...seems fine..."  
"_Well the reason I asked was, I have a friend. A scientist from Shinra. I told her about what Vincent was going through, and she seemed to think he might have symptoms of the Geostigma virus._"

Cid's brow furrowed.  
"That's ridiculous. Vincent, have Geostigma? The guy doesn't even get the common cold. You gotta be jokin."  
"_Cid, this is no joke. Please, is there any way you could get him to Rocket Town? You know, just to meet her?_"  
"You're really serious about this aren't you?"  
"_I wouldn't have called you if there wasn't a reason. You know that_."

The pilot let the silence take him over, listening to the rain outside the window, to the static of Shera's connection on the other end of the line.  
"...I'll try. No guaruntees though. He's a stubborn guy."  
"_Thank you. You won't regret it. If we can help him, well...maybe we can help the rest of the world, too._"  
"Fan-fuckin-tastic," he muttered under his breath. As far as he was concerned the whole world could blow up right now and he'd feel just fine about it.  
"..._I didn't quite catch that._"  
"Just clearing my throat. Listen, Shera, I gotta let you go..."  
"_Okay. Cid, is everything all right?_"

He had to bite his lip to keep from letting loose another hybrid swear. What was it about Shera? Ever since he could remember, she'd been sensitive to other people's moods. Especially his. For one split second it made him miss what they used to have, that old feeling of teamwork and friendship.  
"Yeah. You know me. I'm just hunky-dory."  
"_Why don't I believe you?_"  
"Cuz I'm a bad fucking liar. The truth is...I just can't talk about it. Not now. All right?"

Another soft pause as his last sentence hung in the air. He could feel the distance between them like a heavy fog.  
"..._Okay I can accept that. Just remember, bring Vincent to Rocket Town as quickly as possible. I don't need to stress how important this is_."  
"You got it."  
"_See you soon, Cid. Love you_."  
His stomach twisted into a knot, and the few seconds that slipped by seemed like an eternity. His answer was instant, automatic.  
"Bye. love you, too."  
A click as Shera hung up, then static on the empty line.

Cid put his face in his hands.  
"Goddamn," he muttered.

-

* * *

"We've got a situation- Oh, Cid!"  
Tifa rushed over to him, shaking him awake. "Have you been in the bar all night?"  
Cid sat up groggily. "Mebbe I have, mebbe I haven't," he muttered, thick-tongued.  
"You're hung over," she said disapprovingly.  
"Well if I'm right, you was lookin' for me. And if I am further right, this is the first place you looked. Am I right?" Cid stood up unsteadily, still coping with his previous headache. As he rubbed his temples, he said, "You said we have a situation?"

-

* * *

"Jesus-freaking-bananas, they're all over the place down there!" Cid leaned over the computer screen with a hot steaming mug of coffee in his hand, observing the tiny red dots indicating the attack on Midgar.  
"We've got to go! Cloud and Marlene are down there!" Tifa cried, pacing.  
"Hold onto yer hair, sister," Cid said. "You're about to see the best hung-over fightin' that ever happened. Yeehaw!"  
He collapsed into the pilot's seat and one-handedly steered The Highwind to the city, sipping his coffee.

-

* * *

The pilot was right, they were everywhere. Cid gazed in disbelief. Droids, mechs, and biologically-enhanced hounds flooded the grim city streets. People ran, fought, and screamed.

He dove into the fight with Tifa beside him. But it seemed it was no use. They just kept coming and coming. People were falling. All around them, Cid heard the moans of dying people, and suddenly he was pissed off. After everything they had been through, here was more suffering from the very same source - like a last hurrah from a ghost.  
Once or twice he felt himself nearly go, but Tifa always managed to send a Curaga his way before he fell unconscious.

Then it came. Cid felt it before he saw it. It made the ground tremble.  
He turned around.

It was a mech - taller than a building, as wide as a house, and armored like a military tank. A big, green, fighting machine. Cid could hear its insides working like a badly oiled engine.  
But he had no time to think to himself. The big bad snotrag was banging closer, chewing up concrete with its big metal feet, sending the rest of the tinier mechs running and tumbling over each other trying to get away.

Cid braced himself for impact, spotting Tifa to his left in the corner of his eye, readying her boxing gloves.  
"All right you potbellied yella-ass motherfucker. You've ruined mine, and everyone else's day. You're about to eat some friggin' _pay dirt_."

Then it hit them. The thing had arms with claws on them, and when Cid saw one of them swinging his way, he jumped - but one sharp edge clipped his head, and he fell backwards. The world took on a fuzzy dreamlike quality, and he forced himself to stand, but the thing attacked again. And again. Tifa was down, and Cid was going.

Then, just as blackness nearly clouded his vision, he felt the familiar healing sparkle of a Mega-potion hit his chest like a miniature whirlwind. An arm pulled him up by the elbow, and Cid found himself face to face with Vincent.

"Well what took you so goddamn long?" He muttered.  
"You didn't wake me."

When the arm swung again, the three of them knew when to leap away.  
Vincent pulled out his rifle, and Cid knew instantly that they were going to win. The bullets could puncture places Cid's spear and Tifa's fists could not reach.

On the battle went, and it seemed to Cid that it would never end. But, lightened by Vincent's arrival, it finally seemed like things were in their favor. At last, when thunder began to boom and sprinkling rain fell down on them, Vincent shot one bullet into a vulnerable crevice in the mech's spine.

The humongous thing creaked - rusting, old, it began to fall.  
As it fell, it exploded. They ran, but the fire was searing, and Cid felt some of it engulf his back, running up the back of his neck - hurting the sensitive wound on his head. He fell to his knees, in pain, seeing those clouds come over his vision again. Tifa and Vincent were up ahead, still running. Vincent glanced back and got Tifa's attention.

"Cid!"

The pilot struggled to keep consciousness. The rain suddenly began to fall with a roar, and the water felt good on his burns. But there was Vincent by his side, suddenly, grasping him, trying to get him to keep conscious.  
"Don't bother, I'm a'right," he said groggily, but as darkness clouded his vision yet again, he saw a hound behind Vincent. Through the fog, he heard the war-bark of the Shinra dog, Vincent's grunt as he was hit, and the hellish loud fire of his rifle. After that, an endless black engulfed him completely.


	4. Chapter 4 - Where's Vincent?

**M'kay, make way for another short filler chapter. Wow this series is getting dark.  
Before you read, I'm going to make a disclaimer saying I in no way promote self-harm. It's a horrible thing, it happens, and unfortunately many people do it every day.  
That said, it's a tool I'm using for the purposes of this fiction.  
Enjoy the short stuff! Longer chapters are up-and-coming I promise! ;D **

* * *

-  
Chapter 4  
Where's Vincent?  
-

* * *

"All right that's the last time I drink before five in the morning. No really, I mean it."  
Cid sat up, groaning and rubbing his head for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Then it occurred to him that he was still wet, that nothing had changed, and he opened his eyes to see the blurry form of Tifa come into focus. Rain pattered over them in cold sheets. All was silent in Midgar's main sqaure.  
"Ow. Where's Vincent?"

When he looked up and saw Tifa's worried face, lit by the gray cast, he frowned.  
"Don't tell me - we got another situation?"  
She nodded silently as the rain fell down around them.

-*-*-

* * *

"Cid!"  
Vincent ran over the wet cobblestoned street to the pilot's side, relieved to see Cid was alive. Burned and bleeding, but alive.  
"Don't bother, I'm a'right."  
It was a nice try, but Vincent wasn't convinced. As he tried to move the now wounded pilot to a safer place, another explosion boomed near the fountain from the wreckage of the giant mech and he heard Tifa scream "Vincent watch out!"

He turned, but too late - a Shinra hound had snarled onto him and bitten a wound into his leg. Sudden pain overwhelmed him, and he stumbled, his vision white, the rain was cold, and pain like icey fire leapt from the bite, cascading over the growth of stigma all over him.

It would be so easy for him to give in now, transform, become the stronger one...  
_No._  
He resisted, with all he was worth. He saw Cid, his head bleeding, laying unconscious. That was all the motivation he needed. His reserve restored, Vincent grabbed his rifle and shot several close-range rounds into the Shinra hound, knocking it back, sending it rolling, very dead now, over the wet cobblestones.

A white blur now overtook him and he shuddered, gasping, feeling the pain on his skin bubbling like acid. The transformation would come now whether he wanted it to or not, Cid or no. He tried to tell Tifa, yell at her to run, to do _something, _but the beast would not allow it. Fingers lengthened to long black claws. Skin toughened to a rough hide. Vincent felt no pain. He only felt the beast's rage, only saw through a haze of red.

Deep in his heart, he hated the beast, hated the existence of it...and the rage ran through his body like water rapids. All the anger he kept buried was surfaced now in a fevered cacaphony, riddling his soul with torment.

Fully transformed, he ran off into the gloom.

-*-*-

* * *

"And now we don't know where the hell he is," Cid said. He jumped up, but stumbled and had to steady himself. "Why didn't you run after him?"  
"You were more important at the time. Cloud's looking for him."  
"Big help," Cid huffed. "All right, let's go."  
"Not so fast! I've only just got you revived!" Tifa told him.  
"I can deal with it."

The remnants of the Phoenix Down was jumping around in his system, making him ache with its cool sparkle, and he knew it would work better for him if he just sat down and let it heal him - but dammit he had to do something! Vincent was out there, all alone in the rain, and who knew what crazy suicidal mess he might get himself into?

Cid grabbed his spear and, despite Tifa's protests, found himself running yet again. She went with him, running to keep up. The pilot retraced their steps. The sqaure in Midgar. The ruins of the now very wet mech they had defeated. The fountain.  
That led them to an alley, and Cid started when he saw the back of what looked like a monster lurching into the shadows. Could that be Vincent?

Putting a finger to his lips to make sure Tifa was quiet, he muttered, "He's right in there."

His suspicions were quickly confirmed, for he heard, coming out of the drizzling shadows of the alley, the sounds of slow, heavy breathing.  
Cid crept to the edge. Tifa held back and pulled out her PHS, moving back to whisper into it to Cloud.  
"Vincent," Cid muttered. "I know you're in there somewhere, buddy. Come on out, will ya? We just want to take you home."

He wasn't expecting the growl, the sudden pain in his shoulder as the monster crashed into him, teeth bared.  
Cid instinctively leapt out of the way, but the monster circled him - purple and growling, eyes red and glowing. His shoulder throbbed and bled.

_Am I going to have to fight you, too?, _Cid thought. _Please, Vincent. Don't make me do it._

All around them the rain pattered as Vincent fought and lunged, circled and growled. But Cid had learned his lesson about angry monsters for today. He leapt out of the way of each snarling attack.  
"Vincent! Man, it's me! It's Cid. What are you doing?" He dodged an attack - "This is crazy."

Then he had a slightly insane idea.  
_Maybe it would help if I put my spear down._

Cid did so, then backed off. Vincent was watching him with large red eyes. For the first time in awhile, Cid had another good look at him. He was purple, and kind of scaly. He had a tail, and enormous claws.

Then the pilot saw something that made him absolutely sick. Claw marks in both of Vincent's upper arms, large and bleeding.  
No wild animal had done that to Vincent - his claws were just that size, and the wounds were at the right angle for Cid to read where the wounds had come from.

He was stricken beyond words. Suddenly, any thoughts for his own safety fled out of his mind as he approached the monster. He looked at the bleeding arms, the blood-caked claws. Vincent had done this to himself.

Cid looked up into the monster's face. Vaguely, in the background, he knew that at any moment Vincent could strike out and kill him with one large muscled hand, but he didn't think that would happen. Even now, Vincent was changing, becoming placid. The eyes were growing smaller, the purple diminishing.

Before the pilot knew it, Vincent was standing before him, sopping wet and bleeding. Cid wanted to ask, _why did you do this to yourself?_  
Vincent's collapse was inevitable. Cid knew it was coming and simply scooped the slim man into his arms when he wavered, then turned around.

Cloud had joined them sometime after Cid had set his spear down, and Barret was standing nearby. Tifa was holding Cloud's hand.  
Slowly, she pointed. Cid didn't want to look, didn't want any more shock, didn't want to know why Tifa had that horrified expression on her face...

But he did look, and when he did, his conversation with Shera this morning, which now seemed a million years ago, echoed in his head.  
_"I have a friend. A scientist from Shinra. I told her about what Vincent was going through, and she seemed to think he might have symptoms of the Geostigma virus."..._

He saw, on Vincent's white exposed neck, a growth like black mold. Cid blinked, feeling so tired, so unable to comprehend what this meant.

"Come on," Cid said, "Let's get outta this damned rain."


	5. Chapter 5 - Call Me

**Now we're getting to some of the fun stuff...the sensitive moments between Cid and Vincent! The fluffy things, the stuff I love! ;D  
And I've enjoyed my OC, this Dr. Omagi person.  
Brainstorming for this one came over time for me...at least, I think this is one of my better writing moments. I hope you think so, too!  
Things are progressing beautifully, in my opinion. Enjoy! **

* * *

-  
Chapter 5  
Call Me

Dr. Omagi was a pleasant woman. She stood at one full head shorter than Cid, but seemed taller just by her bearing. Her hair was long and blond, pulled into a loose ponytail that fell down her back. Loose bangs covered her forehead and the sides of her face. Her eyes were a bright intelligent blue behind enormous black-rimmed glasses.  
She smiled and stood up from her seat behind a desk as she saw Cid. As they shook hands, she said, "Hi, I'm Dr. Omagi. You must be Cid! I've heard a lot about you from this one." she nodded in Shera's general direction.

The brown-haired woman in the corner grinned sheepishly.  
"I don't have to tell you it was all good stuff, right?"  
Cid shrugged. "Hey, I got nothin' to hide."  
Tifa coughed.  
The Pilot resisted the urge to give her a swift kick.

Cid took a glance around the neat office. It looked nothing like he had imagined, knowing Dr. Omagi's reputation. He had at least expected to see some weird-looking equipment, or odd things in bottles laying around. On the contrary, it looked quite like a normal office and not a bit like a scientist's lair. He didn't blame himself for thinking she would be one of those quacks..she had Shinra's reputation on her back, and Cid supposed she had worked hard to shake it off.

"Okay, enough of this waiting around. I know you're a good doc. I've seen ya on TV and you sound like you know your stuff. So what's Vincent's deal right now?" Cid asked her.

Dr. Omagi smiled. "Ah, you must've seen the news cover they did on my research."  
She pushed her enormous glasses up her nose, looking thoughtful.  
"To be honest, I'm not sure what his deal is."  
Cid couldn't stop the disappointed feeling which welled up inside him. He was expecting something like this.

"However," the scientist said, taking in Cid's expression, "There's something...well...odd."  
"Odd, what do you mean, doc? Is that a bad thing?"  
Dr. Omagi shook her head, blond hair flying.  
"I just don't know. It seems good, whatever it is...yet it's simply odd. Come on I'm going to have to just show you. Follow me."  
With that she tapped into the other room, leaving Cid and the others looking skeptical.

-*-*-

* * *

When he walked into the white-lit room, sudden understanding overcame him.  
_Oh, _Cid thought, _So this is where she keeps her science-y stuff. _

He couldn't name half the machines that he saw, or read any of the mathematic gibberish scrawled crazily over a white-out board at the room's end. But he could name one thing - Vincent.  
Over the last couple of days Cid had worried over his condition, but seeing him now, in this lab, laying on a simple cot hooked up to machines that he hadn't known existed until today, the pilot felt strangely numb to it all.

Another thing Cid noticed was that Vincent's hands were lying under some loose black straps on the bed, and he wondered briefly if he had given Dr. Omagi a struggle.

"Come on, come on," the scientist gestured to the hesitant group, "I know it's a lab and all, but it's not gonna bite you."  
Cid followed her, not waiting for the others.  
"So what was this odd thing you were gonna show us?"  
He was still eyeing the straps, feeling slightly sick.

Dr. Omagi smiled wistfully.  
"I'll show you in a moment. First of all, I wanted to say, I've never had the chance to study such a person before. Vincent Valentine truly is one of a kind...it's an honor for me, I know it seems silly...but he was so close to Dr. Lucrecia Crescent that I get this giddy feeling every time I think about it. Maybe through him, I can help unlock some of her past secrets."

She was looking at Vincent now. The lenses of her glasses reflected the white of the room. Cid could see that she meant every word she said. She seemed honest, smart and capable.  
"I view him...as a key," she said softly. "There's something here, I'm sure of it."

She shook her head, seeming to bring herself back up from a daze.  
"All right. So the Stigma is growing. And I suppose you've wondered by now why there are straps on the cot. Don't worry, I didn't hurt him. The virus is affecting his mind, you know..," she peered at Cid, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

"On some level, he's still sane, but incredibly unstable. I'm no physchiatrist, but I understand that he's been through much. Stress is a big factor here. See, Vincent is beginning to act more and more on his baser instincts. I can only imagine it's a defense against the virus. It seems oddly territorial. I've been monitoring his adrenaline levels and you probably wouldn't believe the rush of it he gets sometimes. Mostly at night, but it's terribly random and I can't exactly predict it. That's why..."

She gestured vaguely towards the straps.  
"Well, you understand, I have to keep him contained. Poor man. I wouldn't put my worst enemy through this."

She moved swiftly around Vincent's cot, stepping carefully over wires and thin white plastic tubes.  
"Come on over. What I need to show you is the growth of Stigma on his chest."  
Dr. Omagi gently unbuttoned Vincent's black shirt, opening it to about the middle of his stomach.

Sure enough, Cid saw a black growth like weird mold making its way upward in a thin trickle on the white skin. At first Cid didn't notice anything different. It was Geostigma. He'd seen it on a hundred survivors and dead bodies.  
Then it hit him that the stuff was growing around a spot on Vincent's chest...

Dr. Omagi gestured over Vincent, saying, "..A perfect circle, right in the middle of Mr. Valentine's chest. Whatever is in there, it's keeping the stigma from completely taking over his body. I believe what we are looking at is evidence of a larger than usual materia stored inside him. ...I've seen a lot of materia, and well...I don't have to stress how scientifically exciting this is. I think I've found Dr. Lucrecia Crescent's key," the woman added, "There's something to this, I just know it!"

Cid was dumbfounded.  
"This is great - if it is a materia, then well, can't you replicate it somehow? See how it ticks then forge something like it?"  
"That's my only problem," The doctor sighed, "I don't think I dare try to take that materia from his chest - it's probably so much a part of him now that I just don't know what would happen if I tried. Not to mention it's the only thing keeping him from completely losing it right now...but I have a feeling that it is slowly becoming contaminated."

She looked intrigued now, thinking hard.  
"Two great forces of the earth, acting against each other, doing battle...and it's all coming together because of this man. He's so...different."

The pilot thought for a moment, staring at the floor, hands in his pockets.  
"Doc," he said slowly, "Miss, I think, if you took that materia from him...the good chances outweigh the risk. You gotta help him...I don't care how bad off he may be. If what you say is true, that thing is the key. I'd rather see him die because we tried, than die because we didn't do a damned thing about it. Besides, ain't it a scientist's job to take risks?"

Dr. Omagi was silent for a moment, aborbing this.  
"You're right, Cid. You're completely right. It is my job to take risks. But it's also my job to make sure things don't blow up in my face just because I wasn't careful. There's a difference between taking a risk, and just being plain reckless. I'll have to study this and think about it."  
"Make sure you hurry," Cid muttered. "The way he is now...I don't reckon he'll last long."

The doctor smiled.  
"Few people are so honest. I like that about you. You know, Vincent is lucky to have such a good friend. I can see that you care for him deeply."

"Don't worry, she knows what she's doing," Shera piped up softly somewhere behind Cid.  
He turned around to look at her. "I hope you're right, Shera."  
Shera patted him on the arm. "I am."  
The pilot grinned ruefully.

-*-*-

* * *

When the others had long gone to rest at the Rocket Town inn, Cid was still in Dr. Omagi's lab. He had wandered away from the main lab and now leaned against one white wall, sighing. He felt somehow heavy, like a million pounds of weight was resting precariously on his shoulders.  
He could almost feel a projection of Vincent's pain through the wall, like it was an extension of himself.

When Cid walked into the white room again, he now had time to be stricken by his friend's transparentness. Vincent looked so small under that sheet, his arms bandaged, his hair spread out over the pillow in a black fan. He looked so delicate without his armor and his cloak. The sun fell in through the lab window onto his sleeping form, making yellow bar-shaped patterns on the sheets.

Cid took this moment while he was alone to study Vincent's pale face. A noble, straight nose. A chin that came down into a sculpted point. A thin rose-petal mouth that looked so temptingly kissable. Exotic, high-boned cheeks.  
All of a sudden, the pilot was overwhelmed, and he sat in a wooden chair by the simple cot with his head in his hands.  
He thought of what he had seen, those blood-caked claws...the wounds on Vincent's arms. He wondered what it all meant. He wondered if Vincent had given up on life.  
_What's wrong with him?, _the pilot thought, _does he want to die? _

He remembered every moment of the rest of that awful day in a blur. Running as fast as he could to the Highwind, having to find gauze to stem the blood. He was in pain himself that day, but none of it hurt as badly as it should have. He had been so wrapped up in Vincent's well-being that Tifa had to make him swallow a couple of Potions and rest up.

A stirring of the sheets made Cid glance over. Vincent was watching him sleepily, crimson eyes half-open. When he sat up, he stared at the bandages on his arms and then looked over once, at Cid, questioningly.  
"Yeah...I put those on your arms. They were bleeding pretty bad."  
Vincent leaned back.  
"Thank you."

Vincent glanced at the bandage on Cid's shoulder.  
..."I did that. I remember," he said softly, eyes pained. "I'm sorry."  
"Yeah. No biggie," Cid shrugged. Then realization hit him.  
"Hey...you can remember things? Y'know, when you transform?"  
"Sometimes."

Vincent stared at the ceiling, glassy-eyed, mute. Cid had a feeling he was avoiding looking at him. "It's not all right," he whispered. "I should not have done it. I...was trying to run, but suddenly you were _there._"  
He glanced at the straps on his arms, the bandages - then he looked away, closing his eyes.

A soft beeping alerted Cid to a machine, ticking off an erratic rhythm. Ah, that didn't sound very good.  
He remembered what the doctor had said, something about strange rushes of adrenaline. Was this another? It looked like it was getting worse. Vincent was trembling now, seeming to fight against a current.

Cid's heart leapt into his throat and he did the only thing he knew to do. He reached out and grasped Vincent's arm, shaking it lightly.  
"Hey. Stop that."  
When the beeping persisted, the pilot was at a loss. He took Vincent's hand. It was surprisingly warm, but he could feel the tenseness in his fingers.

"Vincent...it's not a good place you're headed to...don't go there! Ya hear me, dumbass?"  
After a minute of the beeping seeming to slow, everything stopped, and the machine was ticking off a nice even beat again. Vincent's fingers went slack in Cid's hand, and the pilot now had time to turn slightly red, for the other man was now looking at him.

He took his hand away, grinning sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.  
"All right, don't do that, you scared the livin' daylights outta me."

All fell quiet for a few moments, and Cid took this time to slowly gather his reserve. If he didn't say it now, he would never say it and then it would be too late.  
"I've gotta admit, Vince, I know how you feel."

Cid rubbed the back of his neck, like he did when he didn't know what to do. This was hard for him to say.  
"Sometimes, I get mad at myself. I hate the person I am sometimes. I wonder why people stick around me, and then worry that I'm not doing the right things. But you know what? Good friends are an awesome thing to have around. True friends...they won't let you do stupid...or harmful things too much."

Vincent was watching him, but was silent.  
The pilot was frustrated, angered. Why was Vincent being so dim? Was he doing it on purpose?  
He gestured at the bandages on Vincent's arms.  
"Those wounds...they didn't get there because of some animal. You did that to yourself. Why?"

Vincent looked sunken. When he spoke, his voice was cold.  
"I cannot explain."  
"But it's over. Meanwhile, you're beating yourself up over shit. Is that really what you want the rest of your life to be like?"

Cid could suddenly see that he had taken just one step too far this time, for Vincent stiffened, and looked away.  
_How old is Vincent, anyway?, _Cid thought.

"Just one more thing and I'll go," he said, trying not to be hurt by Vincent's coldness. "I've got something for you."  
With that, he tossed a PHS onto Vincent's lap. It made a soft thump when it landed.  
"...Gimme a call when you feel like you're slipping."

But it seemed like Vincent was slipping away all the time. Even now he was frozen, staring out the window. For all of Cid's efforts to reach him, he could have been on a completely seperate plain of existence.  
"I'll let you rest now," Cid told him, but his voice seemed to echo off the four small walls like the room was empty.

-*-*-

* * *

Again, Vincent was alone. He stared at the PHS on his lap, brushing it lightly with his fingers. He was afraid. Of the truth in Cid's words, of the monster inside him...  
All during Cid's short visit, he had been thinking to himself, _Go away. Please, go away before I hurt you again.  
_So he had looked miserably at Cid's retreating back, at the door closing with a muted thump that was somehow worse than if the pilot had slammed it shut.

Weakened, he leaned back into the pillows, not daring to sleep. For if he slept, the nightmares would come. Vincent knew that he teetered on an edge.  
It would only take one more nightmare. One more, and he knew something vital would collapse. All would fall, and Cid could not come running to save him this time.  
_He does not need to bleed anymore because of me._

Slowly, he grasped the PHS. How would he get rid of it? It was a heavy weight in his hand, warm and black. He considered breaking it on the wall. But no, that would make a noise and somebody would come running. He considered snapping it in half.  
He didn't have the strength.  
Water could drown it. He looked over at the bedside table. The glass resting there was empty.

He felt himself falling asleep, and he jerked himself awake. It was hard for him, wanting to explain to Cid that feeling of bat's wings fluttering around in his chest, a heavy rock weighing on his conscience. How sometimes he woke up at night sweating and staring at shadows on the ceiling until he thought his mind would snap.

As he stared at the day-lit walls, clenching and unclenching that PHS in one white fist, he fell into an uneasy doze, waking every few seconds with his arms crossed. Scratching almost mindlessly at the bandages on his arms, then hesitating as he felt the warm weight of the PHS still on his lap.

He forced himself to recall running through the rain, needing to kill, needing to feel blood on his claws. He remembered fighting that urge, then suddenly the beast turning on him - that had never happened before. Whatever was going on, the monster inside was stronger now, and was fighting back. His arms ached at the recent memory.

Memories flooded Vincent's addled mind.  
Had Cid taken his hand? He wanted more of that closeness again, that connection...an anchor to the real world. Cid had rough calluses on his fingers. Vincent remembered that, too. And the scent of him lingered. Cigarattes and the faint hint of a musky cologne.

The pilot's words echoed through his memories, as if he hadn't just left. When had the door thumped shut? An hour ago? Two hours?  
_"...Gimme a call when you feel like you're slipping."  
_He was slipping now...always slipping.__

He flipped the PHS open, letting the sound of the dial tone fill the room with its senseless noise. An open channel. All he had to do was push one softly glowing button.  
As he closed his eyes, the tone from the open device rang in his ears, and he fell asleep that way with the PHS cradled in his open palm.


	6. Chapter 6 - Secrets and Flowers

**As I continue with the story, it occurs to me how imperfect my writing is. So, thank you, watchers! Thank you, reviewers! I appreciate every little word on the subject of my pet project. It's my safe place. It's where I find solace. Thank you for taking the steps with me, however small. :}  
**

-  
Chapter 6  
Secrets and Flowers

_  
..."Now I think I understand, how this world can overcome a man."  
- _Avenged Sevenfold

-*-*-

* * *

Tifa sat down beside Marlene. There were flowers on the circular table in the middle of Shera's kitchen, and the small girl had arranged them neatly side by side. She was very carefully twisting a few of them into a tiny wreath.  
"For Vincent?" Tifa asked her.  
"For Denzel," Marlene replied.

Denzel was yet another child of the stigma. A survivor, but an orphan. Marlene had grown very close to him over the past few weeks. Cloud took care of him mostly, but everybody knew he was Marlene's.  
Tifa stared at her now, this little girl... she was ten. She should be playing with other children, running, being care-free. Yet her best friend was sick, and another of her many father figures was possibly dying.

Before Vincent's illness, it hadn't been unusual to see the two of them together. Vincent never seemed to mind Marlene tagging along behind him, oddly enough. Tifa thought Marlene admired him because Vincent didn't treat her like a child. He treated her like a person. When they played chess he never condescended to let her win. If he won, there was no rematch. If she won, it was because she outsmarted him that game.

Tifa watched Marlene twisting those sweet-smelling flowers into a wreath and wondered if she was breaking, or coping. Perhaps she was doing both.

-*-*-

* * *

If someone were to peek briefly into Dr. Omagi's secondary lab, at first they wouldn't see anything but darkness. Then as their eyes became accustomed to the shadows, they would begin to see blinking lights on hulking machines. Some red, some green.  
As they would further observe, a funny sight would meet their eyes - of Cid Highwind in a wooden chair, dry muddy work-boots propped on the white sheet on Vincent's cot, arms crossed, chin merely half an inch from his chest as he nodded and snored in his sleep.

Now, a pair of eyes did observe him. Crimson red eyes, half-open and tired looking. Vincent stared through the sterile darkness of the lab at the muddy boots (a few dry pieces of dirt had crumbled onto the white sheets). He took in the hulking barely-there shadow of Cid himself, sleeping with a half-smoked smoldering cigarette in his mouth. This Vincent had to smile at.  
He thought two things right then. One thought was: _Wild chocobos couldn't keep him away.  
_The second thought was: _Is he trying to kill me?_

This thought referred to the smoldering cigarette which was slowly leaving a trail of ashes across the sleeping pilot's shirt. Vincent reached, and very carefully took the cigarette and extinguished it in the empty glass on his bedside table.  
Vincent simply looked at Cid awhile. Then, he closed his eyes and forced himself to try and sleep.

He did not open his eyes when a triangle of light from the opening door cut through the heavy darkness, and a figure stepped through it. He heard a soft chuckle come from the figure as whoever it was saw Cid, then soft footsteps near his bedside. The sudden muted blue glow of light from a computer monitor, then the tapping sound of a keyboard.

Dr. Omagi whispered, "I'm putting him under heavy sedation," and she must have tapped Cid on the shoulder, for the pilot snorted awake now.  
"...What? Meaning?" he sounded sleepy.  
"..Meaning you can go to bed now if you like. Vincent isn't going anywhere."  
A few seconds of muted silence, and then, "Why don't you stuff it where the sun don't shine, Doc."

A muffled sound, a creak of the wooden chair. Vincent guessed that Cid had his arms crossed stubbornly, was probably leaning back in that precarious way people do sometimes, so that only two legs of the chair are touching the floor.

"I already stuffed it. Felt great."  
The pilot snorted with muffled laughter. "Holy crap, you're a perv."  
"Takes one to know one."  
Two more seconds of silence. The doctor stepped quietly around the bed, doing things to her computers. Vincent felt Cid shift his boots on the bed.

"...I'm doing it tomorrow," the doctor whispered.  
..."Doin' what?"  
"Studying the materia. That's why the sedation. I want him to be as stone-cold out of it as possible."  
Vincent's mind picked at this. What materia?  
"Come to your senses, then, huh?" The pilot muttered.  
"I simply had to think about it. Come on, we can talk more outside."

Muffled, soft footsteps. That was the doctor. Vincent felt Cid's boots shift again and then a spring in the mattress squeaked, and there was a sudden release of pressure on one side of the bed when Cid got up. There was a creak of the chair moving, another thump, then a shushed swear from the pilot as he stubbed his toe on something solid in the darkness.

Vincent willed the door to remain open, for at least the pilot's voice to remain floating into the empty shadows. But Cid thumped away quietly, the door squeaked on its hinges, and the triangle of light which had cut through the darkness was reduced to a sliver, a tiny beam of light, and then finally, complete shadowed silence as the door was closed.

_Sedation..._his mind whispered. Or perhaps it was some other part of him. ..._She's putting me under heavy sedation.  
_Anger. Soft and heavy this time, like the hot breath of a fevered hound on his neck.  
_What gives her the right?  
_  
He was so tired of struggling. Finally he was angry, not just at himself, but at his darker part. The one that vexed him, hurt him.  
The anger, stronger this time, flexed through him like a small tidal wave. Distantly, he heard the sound of a machine beeping an erratic rhythm.

_Stop it, _he willed himself, _stop...leave me be._  
Then, for the first time, an answer came, clear as a bell.  
_But what gives her the right? What gives her the right...to do this to us?  
Us?  
We. We are...  
What are we?_

Suddenly a feeling, like being folded over like a card, torn painfully into two.  
Vincent opened his eyes and his vision was doubled. Dark red flooded his vision and he could see perfectly in the darkness.  
He answered back, though he was trying to swim towards the surface again like a drowning person.  
_If Cid thinks it's all right, then I think it's all right, too. Go away, Galian!_

His left hand came up of its own accord, ripped IV tubes from his right arm. Vincent heard the beeping noise stop short very suddenly.  
A feeling of tearing now, absolute pain. He wasn't made for two entities. He was one man, one monster.  
Two monsters.  
_What the hell am I?_

Pain. Wanting blood. Wanting to take life. Insanity.  
Frantically Vincent waded under the red tide of rage. Did that growling noise just come from his own throat?  
No. He wouldn't stand for this. He had struggled far too long with it.  
_  
_If his mind had an actual voice, he would have shouted at this moment, the only thing he knew instinctively to say. _  
What did Cid do for us? Tell me!  
_  
These strangely commanding words brought on an unexpected silence. Vincent had the distinct feeling that his other half was now hesitating. He waited for a response. Then he realized it was up to him, and suddenly he knew which memory to give the monster.  
It flooded his mind, their mind, with warmth; he remembered the sunshine falling onto the white sheets.  
_  
He...took our hand._

Remembering the warmth, the connection, that anchor to the sane world. The roughness of Cid's hand. The faint musky lingering odor of cologne. _What else?, _Vincent prompted. _What else has he done for us?  
_  
Other memories, warm and vivid, flooded his mind like a deck of cards. Standing on the balcony of the Highwind, Cid smoking a cigarette. Laughing at some long-forgotten joke. A clap on the shoulder. A friendly jibe. The pilot turning his face to the blazing blue sky and saying, "I'll always want to be up there. That's my reason for living, you know." __

A sudden feeling of two merging slowly into one. But not before Vincent caught something in Galian's thoughts, something strange, a terrified rough question that faded away from his mind even as it echoed: _Do we love him..?  
_All anger fell away, and his heart beat slowed.  
Do we...?

(_And what does Galian want?..._Vincent wondered distractedly.)

So Galian sank back into the back of his consciousness, and Vincent knew, could nearly feel physically, that the beast was curled up with its claws closed firmly over its enormous chest (somewhere in his mind, Galian sent that lonely question up from the depths again) and then quite suddenly he was Vincent again, and he gasped.

He realized his hands had become stiff fists. He was clutching the white cover tight enough for his nails to cut into his palm. When he relaxed them, a faint dizziness accosted him.  
He was one man again, finally. His own memories had brought him up like a lifeguard.

But how could he explain even to himself this strange sudden need? He was dim right now. He couldn't think. Yet he knew what he wanted, knew it because of the ache in his chest, knew it because of Galian's intrinsically childlike curiosity - _Do we love him?_

Desperately, he wanted that feeling again, of Cid's hand closing over his fingers. (_Galian wants this too, oddly enough -_) He didn't just want the memory - he wished for an anchor worthy of reality. Vincent was not in one-hundred percent control of himself right now, and it was that lack of control which ached at him, prodded him with a steely finger. But he thought, just once, if Cid would take his hand again...  
Do we love him? What a strange question.

The crazy void which threatened him spun light into its depths like a black-hole, gazed at him and begged him to jump. It was an endless expanse like the sky. But on the other side of it...Who else but Cid Highwind would stand there and scoff? Cid Highwind, who would blow cigarette smoke right into the face of death, then brag about it later. The man who piloted an airship and always had his craggy, smirking face tilted towards his own sky, a blazing blue one, filled with white clouds and hope.

Vincent did love him. So much that this realization numbed him, and even made his darker half hesitate, such was the strength of his almost wordless answer - _Yes Galian we love him - _He couldn't ask himself what it meant, or why he did, just that there was this staring, empty ache in his chest always looking for completion. And Cid seemed to fulfill that ache with his presence - could tame it with one glance of his bright intelligent eyes.

Vincent couldn't process anymore. He simply sat there breathing and thinking of nothing until blackness dimmed his mind into something like a restful sleep. And on the other side of his mind, the image of the pilot glimmered inside his dreams, then, unbidden, faded away into nothingness.  
And Galian slept.

-*-*-

* * *

Outside the lab, the light near the door shined yellow over the muddy streets of Rocket Town. Mud... you couldn't avoid it in this place, Cid contemplated. It had always been like that. It made the town seem actually poor, destitute, a place where good wishes and dreams went to die.

"What is this materia thing anyway?" Cid asked the doctor. "Have you figured that out at least?"

The woman's profile was sharp in the contrasting darkness between the glowing light and the deep darkness of night. She looked tired, but determined. The set of her chin, the straightness of her shoulders, showed Cid volumes about her.  
"I don't know. I wish I did."  
"Oh."

He didn't let his shoulders slump, though. Things like this...they agonized him, but at the same time patience was a virtue. Though he hated this waiting, this not knowing. Especially these tantalizing secrets. Who had Dr. Lucrecia Crescent been, and what the hell was in that materia that was keeping the Stigma away from Vincent's beating heart?

Sick of thinking about it, he grunted.  
"Listen, you've done a lot. How about we wade through this mud over to Shera's? I make a mean cup of Earl Grey tea."

-*-*-

* * *

At first the Doctor just stood there in the brightly-lit kitchen, looking hesitant, as if someone might scold her for simply being there.  
"Hey, don't go. You just got here. Sit," Cid commanded.  
"It just occured to me...I..." she glanced around.  
"Look I know you're a workaholic scientist. You've got things to do. I understand that. But you told me yourself Vincent aint' goin' anywhere. So sit down and drink yer goddamn tea."

The Doctor sat.  
"Is he always like this?" she muttered to Shera.  
"Yup."

"That's better. ...hey what in the blazing heck is this?!"  
Cid stared in horror at the skinny black cat that was weaving around his feet, purring loudly and hypnotically.  
Shera laughed. "It's the cat you never wanted. Isn't he adorable? His name is Bob."  
"Yeah I fucking hate it!" ...then after that, he raised his eyebrows. "And Bob has no balls. You captured him, then took away his lady lovin' privelages? You oughta be ashamed of yourself. That's animal cruelty right there."  
"He's de-clawed too..."  
"All right that's it, get outta my sight. No goddamn tea for you."

But when the kettle steamed and whistled, Cid nonetheless poured her a cup, huffing as he did so. Shera just grinned.  
"No tea for me?" she prompted teasingly.  
"Shuttup, Shera," he muttered darkly.

The cat, happy that his new target was sitting, now hopped up into Cid's lap, purring almost maniacally.  
"It's a damn insult to mankind, is what it is..." Cid was saying through the thickness of a muffled sneeze.

The circular table gleamed, the kitchen smelled of just having been cleaned. Shera was sitting to the right of the doctor. Tifa was standing up, leaning over and fiddling with the flowers Marlene had left over from her wreath project. She was arranging them in a clear plastic vase she had found under the counter.  
Tifa did this with a strange reverence that was lost on Cid. Only God knew why females loved flowers so much.

"You were right, Cid. This is..."  
The doctor closed her eyes, sniffing experimentally at the steam rising from her faded white coffee mug.  
"It's really good. Spicy. What's in it?"  
"Highwind secret, so..."  
"Can't say?"  
"In the words of my late pop, 'hell no.'"

The doctor sighed and appeared to relax completely for the first time since Cid had met her the week before.  
"I appreciate this," she said softly.  
"No prob. So doc, would you mind if I asked you a nosy question?"

Cid was leaning back in his chair, eyeing the cat now curled up in his lap, though strangely enough making no move to shove it away.  
A smile played in the corners of Dr. Omagi's mouth.  
"Would it stop you if I were to say no?" she teased.  
"No."  
"Then full steam ahead."  
Cid wasted no time. "What got you into this science business?"

She laughed merrily. "That's your question? Okay I have one. What got you into piloting?"  
"Touche` m'dear."  
"I believe the answer to both would be passion. You probably had a passion for airplanes as a child, right? And I wanted to know everything."  
The doctor appeared to contemplate, then said slowly, "...No. Not only that, I wanted to change the world. I still do. I'd also be lying if I didn't add that it's also a completely egocentric goal for me."

Cid shrugged. "We've all got an ego."  
"Yeah, and for a good reason. I have to admit, I'm in awe of you. You, and Tifa, and the rest."  
"I'll be damned. How come?"

The doctor almost seemed girlish when she smiled now. For a second, Cid could see the shy, quiet thing she must have been in her high school days.  
"Do you even have to ask? Meteorfall..." she shook her head, letting the words trail off. "It was a big deal. For everybody. For the planet. You helped save all life as we know it. There's almost no way I can live up to that."

Cid stared at his cup of Earl Gray tea. When he looked up at the doctor, his eyes were stunningly clear.  
"Sure you can. Cure Vincent. The scope may not be as big, but it sure as hell would change _my_ world, doc. You better believe it."

-*-*-

* * *

When it got to be later than they liked, and everybody was yawning, the doctor began to leave for bed, but stopped, taking one moment to admire the flowers in the center of the circular table.  
"Those are pretty," she remarked, "Mind if I take one?"  
"Sure. They aren't mine, they're Marlene's, but she's been spreading them around like crazy," Tifa told her. "Honestly, she'd probably make you take the whole bouquet."

After Tifa left along with Dr. Omagi, it was just Cid and Shera.  
Shera leaned back in her seat, stretching. Cid was scratching Bob behind the ears with a contemplative expression on his face.  
So Shera got a fucking cat, so what?  
It was just one of those things Cid had decided he didn't want in the house, and...was it really his house anymore? For months he'd been away from it.  
Being back here was somehow like walking into a distant stranger's home.

He was more of a dog person, anyways.

"Shera?" he questioned.  
Something in his voice must have caught her attention because she looked up.  
"Hmm?"

For one tiny little second he caught a whiff of bittersweet nostalgia, how cute she was when she was sleepy. He remembered how easily cuddled she was in bed with her arms crossed over her chest, how her mousy brown hair was always clean and brushed, how her skin would smell of some lotion that was supposed to be scentless but had an odor anyway.  
Clean memories. Gone memories.

"You got a cat. Have you... I dunno. Moved on?"  
Out loud, the question sounded stupid to him.

Shera sighed. "Sometimes I'm afraid that I haven't. But you always seemed to be moving on. So I decided I couldn't wait on you forever..."  
Her words trailed off into the silence, then she said, "...I'm sorry, it just seems so cruel doesn't it? We never had this discussion."  
"No, I guess we didn't. And you're right about that. I can't seem to stay in one place for very long."

A few seconds of silence passed between them, and then Cid asked, "So how's life with a cat?"  
Shera yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.  
"Well he occasionally pukes on the floor and demands my constant attention, so not much different from life with you, I guess."  
"Oh har, har."

Shera grinned at him and Cid smiled back, a bit sheepishly.  
"So this is it then, huh?" he said to her.  
She seemed slightly sad now, though she was still smiling.  
"Yes, it is."

For another split second Cid felt distantly terrified, and he thought right then it would be so easy to just fall back into love with Shera, pick up where they left off and put on the relationship again like it was an old but comfortable coat.  
But that would be the easy way out. Cid was through with that road...and he was nothing if not adaptable.

_It's time to fight, _he thought. _Fight for the right thing, for what I really want._

"Good night," was all he said after this round of silence.  
Shera just laughed.  
"Good night, Cid."

The cat purred in his lap. Cid finally pushed it away and it plopped gracefully to the floor on its feet like only a feline can, giving him an indignant yellow stare as he did so.  
"Bob," he exulted, "I'm so sorry for what this woman did to you..."  
Shera giggled as she exited the kitchen, and Bob followed her, silky black tail swishing prissily. __

-*-*-

* * *

It was almost final, like chapter in his life had ended. Suddenly it seemed to Cid it was almost as if, were he to blink too much or step on something vital, the very stars themselves would wink out of existence.

As Cid tromped through the frozen mud and looked up at the deep black sky, feeling the cold night wind on his face, he thought maybe for a second everything could be okay again.  
_But it's delicate, what we have now. One wrong move... _

Against all odds, perhaps it would be all right. That was all he could hope for, all he could pray for. And yes, he was scared. Terrified, actually. But it was what drove him as a human being. He wasn't going to let fear take him over.  
The stars weren't going anywhere. Neither was Vincent.

Boldened by this thought, Cid continued on to the inn across from Shera's house.

-*-*-

* * *

The doctor felt tiredness fall over her as she poured a small glass of water. "Here, have a drink," she told the little yellow flower, then immediately felt a hint of the giggles as she put the flower in the glass.  
_Oh, no..I've been awake for too long...it's definitely bed time. _

She simply stood there, staring at this little yellow flower, not paying attention to the voice in the back of her mind that niggled her. It was always niggling. When you were a scientist, there was always this workaholic little elf in your brain shrieking, "_Get to work! Stop slacking! Move it!_"

Work...she sometimes wondered, maybe if she wasn't such a workaholic, she'd have more time for family.  
Sitting around the table like that with Cid and the others...it had opened her eyes a little bit to her own bitter truths. She was very much a loner.

Randomly, almost offhandedly, she realized, that the voice wasn't trying to tell her to work. It was telling her, "_Something's wrong here...something's a bit off._"  
It was the flower in that glass.  
The Doctor pushed all thoughts of family aside, staring at it.

She stood there for what felt like an eternity, and if someone had walked into her lab at this very late hour, they would have seen Dr. Omagi staring at a flower in a glass as if it were the center of the universe. They would hear her muttering under her breath (a habit she didn't know that she even had) and she even swayed on her feet every now and then, her eyes glazed over. She was quite simply in that deep place a hard thinker goes to when there is a problem to solve.

The flower looked fresh. Too fresh. She knew it wasn't indiginous to this region. And where had the group come from directly after Vincent's last collapse?  
From Midgar.  
Midgar, which was far away from this small muddy place named Rocket Town. And they hadn't been back there since...

Dr. Omagi wracked around in her brain for a time.  
Two weeks, two and a half?  
_Yes. They've been here for exactly two and a half weeks without going anywhere. This flower came from Midgar, I'm certain of it, silly as that sounds. No plant can grow in that toxic place. Except maybe...in a couple of rare places._

But this flower, it looked strange. Not wild, certainly, but almost _bred. _And here it was, this simple little plant, as fresh and pretty as the day it was picked.  
It'd been like this for nearly three weeks.  
_Three weeks, _the Doctor thought, placing a hand to her temple.

Aloud, she said, "What's your secret?"  
The flower, mysterious in its yellow simplicity, obviously said nothing.  
_I've gotta stop talking to inanimate plants...  
_The Doctor, who had been feeling just a tad crazy tired before, was now sparked with a new energy as she carried the flower to her lab, all thoughts of bed (and her newfound loneliness) forgotten.

-*-*-

* * *

What one had to do, the Doctor surmised, was get into the Shinra databases. No problem. She used to work there. After the fallout of Shinra, she still had their codes locked tight in her brain. She worked for a few minutes, feeding these codes into security boxes. Finally, the Shinra website pulled up, and she couldn't help but feel a little bit sick as she stared at the familiar settings. She was, it seemed, a completely different person from back in those days.  
She wondered sometimes how easily she could have gone the way of Hojo.

Sighing, she thought for a moment, pushing her memories back into the back of her mind where they belonged. Her long fingers poised like frozen dancers over the keyboard. What would she look for?  
_F-L-O-W-E-R, _she typed.  
There was a soft beep as the computer sent her a negative. Knowing Shinra it was something that went deeper than plantlife.  
M-A-K-O, was the next thing she typed.  
Beep! Went the computer.  
Nothing on the mako, all except lists of common knowledge that everybody and their mother knew about the stuff. Pages and pages of it.  
Her blue eyes scanned this anyway, searching for an attention-catching title.

Biting her bottom lip now, she narrowed her eyes, fingers still poised over the keyboard. The soft glow of the computer screen reflected in her glasses, made her face seem pale and ghostly.

Think...who in Shinra had the most secrets? Well that was a hard one to answer. You might say that the whole company had been rife in them.  
But a certain woman named Lucrecia Crescent had seemingly made a career out of keeping secrets. They were buried everywhere in the Shinra databases. In files, in half-coded discs, in floppies and even, Dr. Omagi had heard, in materia.

It was here at this thought that the Doctor turned to look at Vincent, breath catching in her chest.  
She caught herself simply staring at his pale face, entranced that in sleep there was something of a deep-rooted innocence in him. He seemed caught in a moment of perfect peace. Oh, how she didn't want to disturb it...but tomorrow she would have to. Only God knew what would happen when she took the materia from his chest.

Her deft fingers sprang into action. She typed a name into the Shinra-database searchbox with a feeling of nearly breathless trepidation as the man himself slept nearly two feet from her chair:  
_V-I-N-C-E-N-T V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E.  
_**  
**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Nature of Galian

-  
Chapter 7  
The Nature of Galian

_For all the things Vincent Valentine knows about Galian, there are about a hundred things he doesn't know. Ever since the beast was born in his heart, through cells and nerve endings and half-transformations, he had resented it, somehow blocked it with his mind. There was almost a half mad technique to it - first you imagined the bricks, and then you built a wall. Then you mentally placed that wall between you and your challenger. Vincent had become a pro at this over the years._

_It angered Galian that he had to share this body with another. It angered Galian that, most of the time, there was an insane amount of distance between he and who he called VINCENT UNIT. A distance that was peppered with brick walls and barriers._

_But Galian is anything but stupid. He knows that bricks have cracks. And if you find the right cracks, you can bust on through the wall like it was paper. He did this over and over again, and in a way became just as practiced at busting through mental barriers as Vincent was at creating them._

_For Vincent, being overtaken by Galian was a lot like being possessed. There was this feeling of BEING CONTROLLED, of a voice not just in the back of his mind but echoing throughout his entire being._

_For Galian, the taking over of VINCENT UNIT was a little bit like slipping on a pair of gloves that did not fit - (why does he not like us, why can't he use me he has these ugly pale white limbs, they aren't very strong like mine!) - but it was still an act of freedom, because for once he could BREATHE and SEE and FEEL._

_Being a beast, Galian had to sleep sometimes. He did an inordinate amount of sleeping when VINCENT UNIT insisted on pushing him back. He had no choice. But sometimes, when the time was right, when VINCENT UNIT had let the brick barriers erode without knowing it, he could leap forward and be free._

_But there is one thing VINCENT UNIT does not know about Galian and it is this:_

_Galian is, intrinsically, a terrified child._  
_Terrified children don't have long, black six-inch claws on the ends of their fingers. But Galian did, and it was this fact which made him most dangerous._

_The terror began when the black stuff began crawling up his back (we are dying, we are dying and he's doing nothing to stop it)_  
_But after a time, terror does something strange to a locked-up beast. It makes him crazy. Now when he broke free of the barriers, a whiteness overtook his consciousness and a cold, calculated hate for his captor, for VINCENT UNIT was incrypted into his soul. It had much to do with being contaminated, but mostly it was a feral, dark instinct, one that Galian could not control. One that this sickness had unlocked from deep within him._

_In a strange way he had a crippled, ugly love for his biological body, but at the same time there was this insane undercurrent of pure, untethered rage that needed an outlet._  
_In a way, Galian always wanted what Vincent did, because without one there could not be the other. _  
_They were joined at the the mind, yet disjointed from each other._  
_VINCENT UNIT hated the both of them, sometimes with an absolute horrifying strength that confused Galian._

_PUNISH HE WANTS TO PUNISH US_

_And it was this insane, half-formed thought that ran most through his mind._

_VINCENT UNIT wanted to die._  
_GALIAN UNIT would help him._

_Regardless of whether or not Galian actually wanted it, by this time his mind was so much not his own that he could not differentiate between GALIAN MIND and VINCENT MIND._

_What Vincent-Mind wanted was just as befuddling as what Galian-Mind wanted. For now, the two were together and they clashed horribly, almost as cymbals will do._

_But he tried, he tried and he didn't succeed at dying because there was Cid, and Cid took their hand and looked into their eyes and they didn't feel like a monster after that, they felt like what VINCENT UNIT called a HUMAN BEING and for the first time ever, Galian/Vincent didn't want blood or killing, or death._  
_What Cid did for them was somehow seperate the clashing dual nature. He cleared it up. He set it free._  
_(He took our hand.)_

_LOVE was the word VINCENT UNIT used for this feeling. Vincent didn't know this either, but Galian was terrified of it, because it made him feel sick._  
_(Are we dying because we love him, Vincent? - Galian thought in his strange disjointed way)_

_He didn't know that LOVE was instrinsically good. LOVE conquers all, even savage beasts like Galian. LOVE can make us feel weak and scared and most of all, sweet, like music is playing right through our hearts. Yes, it scared him. And like all terrified children, Galian fought back against this feeling, not understanding what it was, only knowing it was strong._

_Galian was scared, so Galian curled up in the back of Vincent's tired mind and curled his tail around him and crossed his big gigantic claws over his chest, and wondered about this newly discovered LOVE FEELING._

_For the first time in a long while, the dual nature of the VINCENT GALIAN MIND was split apart._

_Overwhelmed with it all, Galian slept._

_Vincent Valentine opened his eyes._


End file.
